


Moonstruck

by xylophones



Series: Monster Week 2017 [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, College, Declarations Of Love, Getting Together, M/M, Magic-Users, Magical Realism, Romance, Self-Discovery, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-25 23:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12543884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylophones/pseuds/xylophones
Summary: Moonstruck/mo͞onˌstrək/ (adj.)unable to think or act normally, especially because of being in love.Viktor, famous popstar, loses his heart and his ability weave magic into his songs. He thinks his career is over, figuring that the only bright part of his bleak life was his magic.And then he sees Yuuri Katsuki dance.





	Moonstruck

**Author's Note:**

> Day three of monster week: modern magic!!  
> also no, this has nothing to do with [my popstar au](http://archiveofourown.org/series/656144) but it is kind of an AU of that AU??  
> unedited + unbeta'd + im sensitive pls be nice ty   
> anyway!! enjoy!!

Viktor loses his heart on the plane ride from Paris to Los Angeles.

He’s sitting in his private jet, reading the schedule that his assistant emailed him, when it just drops out of his chest and through the floor of the jet, disappearing in a flash of faint purple light.

“Um.” Viktor says.

He staggers to his feet, clutching his chest. There’s a definite lack of warmth, but other than that he doesn’t feel any different. But he should! That was his heart! He’s missing his heart. He sends his awareness out and casts _sense_ , trying to see if maybe it’s somewhere on the plane, under his seat or––

Nothing.

He can’t sense his heart. He can’t even feel his own magic.

It’s fine. It will come back. Viktor just needs to sit back down and prepare himself for his day. As soon as they hit the runway, he’s supposed to be at the studio, no break.

It’s fine. He doesn’t feel any different anyway.

 

* * *

 

Somewhere in the suburbs near LA, a heart drops into a garden and sinks into the soil.

 

* * *

 

"––and once you get to the studio, Yakov wants to talk to you about featuring on a track, something about a popular DJ? He wants you to––”

Viktor tunes out his assistant’s voice and watches the city pass by through the window. It’s so bright, compared the the sleek monochrome interior of the limo. Viktor sighs wistfully. His assistant drones on. They pull into the parking garage of the record labels recording studio and Viktor’s view of the outside world is replaced with concrete and faux leather couches and sound insulating foam.

He’s herded into a room with instructions to record as much as he can without wearing out his magic. Yakov has been really worried about him lately, Viktor’s producer tells him. Viktor doesn’t really like his producer. He feels like he cuts off too much of Viktor’s emotions from the final product. He steps up to the microphone and slips on the headphones, determined to just crank out another hit and go home.

Viktor opens his mouth to sing and––

––nothing.

His voice comes out normally, he still sounds like himself. But there’s no _magic_ in it. There’s no lilting wave, no wash of emotions. He feels nothing. He can’t feel the surge of power coming from his vocal chords, can’t hear the subtle sound of the ocean behind his voice. That’s his signature. Instead, all he can hear is the dull roar of his blood rushing through his veins while he tries, and fails, not to panic.

“Um!” he says loudly, taking his headphones off. “Just, give me a second! Bad start!”

Viktor clears his throat. He runs through some vocal exercises and drinks some water. He searches inside himself, trying to feel the familiar thread of magic that’s intertwined with his soul. Nothing.

“Are you okay, Mr. Nikiforov?” his producer asks. Viktor gives him a thumbs up and a brittle smile.

“Great! My throats just a little sore. Let’s go again.”

Viktor squints at the paper in front of him, printed with the lyrics of what’s supposed to be his next hit, scheduled to be released on Christmas. It’s a love song, of _course_. He wrote it himself, with the thought in mind that he’d weave images of snowflakes and icicles into the song. Maybe a gust of cold air during the chorus, the smell of peppermint while the song fades out. Now, he can’t understand why he thought this song was good. It’s nothing. It’s noise and artificial atmosphere.

The backing track starts up in Viktor’s headphones. He opens his mouth to sing, but his voice comes out flat. He rips the headphones off.

“I need a break!” Viktor says. And then he runs.

Five minutes later, Yakov is already blowing up his cellphone. Viktor sets them all to silent. He sneaks his way into the studio garage and steals his own car, silently apologizing to his driver who will have to drive one of the company cars home. He peels out of the parking space and just drives, for once thankful for the horrible LA traffic. He doesn’t know where he’s going. He just wants to be away from the studio.

“What’s wrong with me?” Viktor whispers to himself, gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turn white.

He knows what's wrong with him. When he speaks the cavity in his chest echoes hollowly.

The cars move at a snail’s pace. Viktor reaches over and flips on the radio.

Immediately, the temperature in the car rises, going from slightly too cool to nice and toasty. The smell of pumpkin and cinnamon bursts forward, washing over Viktor, cloying and sickly sweet. Viktor’s own voice calls out to him, crooning about cozy autumn mornings and the leaves changing like his loves hair. Viktor can smell their perfume.

He fumbles with the controls for the radio, punching buttons until it shuts off. All sensation dissipates, until Viktor is cold and alone in his car, stuck in traffic.

He _hates_ that song. He hates that he originally wrote it about familial love, but that the studio executives said that it would only sell if it was about romance. He hates that he’s never been to a pumpkin patch in his entire life, but he wrote about one to capitalize on the season. He hates that all the warmth in his voice when he sings about his love’s hair and eyes and hands are all fake. Artificially manufactured using his special brand of vocal magic, the waves of his ocean crashing quietly in the background.

Viktor flips on his turn signal and exits. He needs to fix his magic, _now._ He starts driving to the magical heart of LA.

 

* * *

 

The square is alive with magic. It crackles through the air, manifesting in small sparks when people walk or wisps of light. There are vendors lining the perimeter, using their magic to project their voices, advertising magical suppressants and enhancers and everything in between.

Viktor is looking at some crystal balls when he sees _him_.

He’s all the way across the square, in front of the white brick wall of a nearby building. There's a thick crowd gathered around him, so Viktor can only see the flashes of light and color that spark above their heads. Through a gap in the crowd, he _sees_ him. Charcoal black hair and a loose smile.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, Viktor steps forward. He pushes his way to the front of the crowd.

He’s a shooting star on earth. That’s the only way Viktor can describe the man in front of him. He twirls, sending a shower of sparks cascading down with a flick of his wrist, his back arched and torso parallel to the ground like a figure skater. He dances to an upbeat sounding piano song, his feet hitting the ground with every note. Everytime he jumps, he hovers in the air for a second, suspended by magic, like he belongs in the heavens. He’s enthralling.

The audience gasps as the dancer leaps in the air again, sending out ripples of color as he spins. A wave of turquoise washes over Vitkor and he gasps as he’s hit with a current of _happy-joy-laughter._

Viktor stumbles back a couple steps, stunned. His eyes widen. He hasn’t felt emotions like this in so long he’s almost forgotten the words for them.

The music raises to a crescendo with the dancer’s final movements and that’s when Viktor realizes that there are no speakers near by. No boombox or IPod dock. The music is coming from the dancer.

He finishes up in an explosion of color and sound and light, sending it out in a sphere before he draws it all back into himself, like a blackhole. He’s radiant, shining with the energy of his magic as the crowd applauds, some of them tossing spare change into a nearby bucket.

Viktor _needs_ to talk to him.

“Hi!” Viktor stumbles forward excitedly. “That was amazing! All the magic that you used in that one performance was incredible! _You’re_ incredible!”

Merlon, he sounds like an overexcited puppy, but Viktor really doesn’t care. He needs to let this man know how much he loved his performance.

“Thank you so–– Oh my god!” He gasps, hands coming up to cover his mouth. “Y-You’re Viktor Nikiforov!”

Viktor lights up. “You know who I am?”

“Of course! Everyone knows who you are! What are doing–– wait, you saw all that?”

“Yes! You were stunning!” Viktor grins and decides to take a chance. “Can I buy you a coffee?”

The dancer squeaks and turns pink. Viktor is enamored already.

“Y-Yeah, that would be good. Um, cool. Let me just––” he turns and starts gathering up his stuff, darting looks at Viktor every so often like he can’t believe he’s real.

To be fair, Viktor hasn’t taken his eyes off him for a second. He hopes he’s not creeping him out with all the staring it’s just, well, he’s really, _really_ pretty.

“What’s your name?” Viktor asks him, leaning in a little closer, magnetized.

“Yuuri.” he says, his voice soft and fresh like soap bubbles. “Yuuri Katsuki.”

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor repeats. Yuuri. Even his name sounds magical.

“My friend owns the coffee shop down the block… if you want to, um, go?” Yuuri starts walking down the block. Viktor follows, feeling bouncy and light.

 

* * *

 

Viktor learns a couple things about Yuuri during that first coffee. He learns that Yuuri is a student at the

Local university, getting his masters in dance. He wants to become a teacher, but he’s having trouble deciding on a specialization. He loves all forms of dance, but his favorite is street. He apparently owns all of Viktor’s albums in both physical and digital copies. He teaches a pole dancing class on weekends, something he tells Viktor in a timid, but proud voice. He’s a million contradictions in one and Viktor could spend hours listening to him talk.

He’s shy and reserved up until Viktor mentions his dog.

“You have a dog?” he gasps, his eyes sparkling.

Viktor has his phone out with his photo album open in seconds. “Yes! Her name is Makkachin!”

“She’s a poodle? I love her,” Yuuri swipes through the photos, cooing and gushing. “She’s adorable! But, you’ve never mentioned a dog in any interviews….”

Yuuri freezes. He looks up at Viktor like he’s expecting him to get up and walk away. “N-Not that I stalk you or anything? I’ve only seen a couple, but, I mean, you don’t post any pictures of her on Instagram–– but I don’t stalk you on Instagram either! I don’t even use Instagram that often, I just–– um! Uh!”

“You’re _adorable_ ,” Viktor sighs, resting his chin on his hand. “It’s okay. I don’t post many pictures of her because I just adopted her last week.”

Yuuri blushes. “Sorry. I told you I was a fan.”

“I think it’s cute!” Yuuri blushes even more. “Though, it’s a little unfair that you know so much about me, but I hardly know anything about you.” Viktor pouts.

Yuuri laughs a little, visibly relaxing. “What do you want to know?”

“Where did you learn how to do magic like that?” Viktor asks immediately. “So many things combined in one dance–– you had music, light, color, _emotion_! I couldn’t even see you casting, how do you do it?”

“Um, I didn’t learn it in like a class or anything. I just kind of picked it up from different people?” Yuuri shrugs. “I moved here when I was six. My parents own an inn by the sea in this small coastal town a little north of here. Money was tight so my sister and I went to the local public school.”

“What’s that like?” Viktor leans forward, intrigued. “I went to a strictly all human magic users school.”

“School was okay. Since a lot of students came from different backgrounds, there were a lot of different types of magic. I learned more from my friends than I did in class. My best friend, Phichit, is a magic using werewolf and he’s the one who first introduced me to performance magic.”

“Performance magic? Is that what it’s called?”

“Yes?” Yuuri smiles quizzically. “But, um, haven’t you heard of the term before? I mean, your music is a form of performance magic.”

“Oh, I––” Viktor can feel his smile cracking a little at the edges. “I don’t know about that.”

Yuuri frowns. “Is something wrong? I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but are you okay?”

Viktor looks out the window. Across the street someone is walking their dog with a leash made of light.

“Something’s wrong. I can’t use my magic anymore. I lost my heart.”

Yuuri furrows his brow. “You lost your heart? Like, your inspiration, or?”

“No, I mean I _literally_ lost my heart.” Viktor taps his chest and swears he hears it echo. “It fell right out of my chest.”

“Um,” Yuuri says. He reaches out to touch Viktor, but stops half-way through, dropping his hand back onto the table. “Can I–– not to be rude, but how are you alive?”

Viktor smiles bitterly. “Ah. I’ve been alive without a working heart for years. I’m managing.”

Something in Yuuri’s eyes crumples. He leans forward and looks at Viktor with wide, earnest eyes. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could help.”

Viktor resists the urge to take Yuuri’s hand. It’s too soon. He doesn’t want to scare him off. Viktor definitely wants to see Yuuri again, to get to know him better and learn more about his magic––

“Oh!” Viktor gasps. “I have an idea!”

Yuuri makes a curious noise.

“You _can_ help me! Be my magic coach, Yuuri!”

“What.”

“Earlier, when you performed, I had never felt emotions like that before. I’ve never met someone with so much raw magical energy. Do you think you could teach me? Like you said, what I do–– _did_ –– with my singing was a form of performance magic. Maybe I can get it back!”

Yuuri hesitates. “I don’t know… I don’t think I’m qualified to teach _you_. I mean, you’re Viktor Nikiforov. You’re one of the greatest performance magicians in the world.”

“Was,” Viktor says, smiling sadly. “And I’m not asking you as Viktor Nikiforov. I’m asking you as someone who saw you dance today and was so moved that I had to trick you into getting a coffee with me.”

Yuuri sputters. “You didn’t _trick_ me, I–– my dancing isn’t _that_ great, um–– anyway! I don’t know about teaching you.”

“Please? It’ll be good practice for when you get your teaching degree. If you can teach me, you can teach anyone.”

Yuuri bites his lip, considering. He fiddles with his empty coffee cup, idly sending swirls of color dancing across the table. Viktor has no idea how so much raw magic power manifests itself in such a humble, soft man. He’s half in love with the juxtaposition of it.

“Okay.” Yuuri says finally. Viktor beams. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. Magic lessons start monday.”

Viktor goes home that night with a million missed calls from Yakov, a renewed sense of hope, and Yuuri’s number.

 

* * *

 

“Okay!” Yuuri says loudly, clapping his hands together. “Lesson number one!”

“Before we start––” Viktor looks around at the dance studio that Yuuri took him to. “Why are we here?”

Viktor has spent all weekend thinking about today. He’s been texting Yuuri constantly, exchanging dog photos and getting to know each other more. Viktor has _never_ felt like this before. He thinks this is what a first crush must have felt like. He always thought he’d missed out, since instead of crushing on cute boys and going to prom in high school, he was busy touring internationally and having his magic taken advantage of.

But, well, that’s in the past now. Yakov is a much better manager than his first one. And who says it’s too late to have a crush?

Viktor snaps his thoughts back to the present when Yuuri claps his hands together again, sending a ripple of pink light radiating throughout the room.

“We’re here because this room is lined with magic enhancing crystals.” He gestures towards the mirrored wall. “It helps people practice longer and prevents against arcane burnout. Like your rose quartz necklace.”

Viktor’s fingers come up to his neck, fiddling around with the small, pink snowflake charm. “Yeah, I never do a concert without it.”

Yuuri smiles sheepishly. “I know, I remember you mentioning it. That’s why I thought this would be a good place to start.”

Viktor blushes. “You’re so thoughtful.”

Yuuri turns his face away, but Viktor can see him smiling through the mirror. He doesn’t know if the electricity in the air is magic or all in Viktor’s head. Either way, it’s exhilarating.

“You said you haven’t been able to do any magic at all?”

Viktor shakes his head. “I can’t even use a simple heating charm on my food. I’ve been able to do that since I was seven.” Yuuri frowns. Well, charms can be kind of difficult sometimes. Let’s try something a little easier, something that involves less intent.”

Yuuri sits down on the wooden floor of the studio, waving Viktor over to sit across from him. He smells like vanilla and warm coffee, earthy and fresh. Viktor inhales deeply, catching a hint of fresh pumpkin pie and a cool sea breeze.

He raises an eyebrow. “Are you projecting?”

“Yes!” Yuuri beams, pleased. “So, at the very least you‘re still pretty sensitive to detecting arcane energy. This is good!”

Viktor smiles. It’s really cute how enthusiastically Yuuri is about the littlest things.

“Were you thinking of a particular memory?”

Yuuri nods. “I was thinking about my sixteenth birthday. My mom made a pumpkin pie and after I took our dog for a walk on the beach, I came home and saw it cooling on the kitchen window sill.”

“I’m so warm,” Viktor says. “Like I can feel the sun on my back. Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“It’s one of my happiest memories, which makes it easy to project.” Yuuri nods a Viktor encouragingly. “You try.”

Viktor thinks about the night he won his first Grammy. He was sweaty and stressed out. He’d cut his hair the night before from a silky waterfall that went down to his waist to just the smallest swoop of silvery bangs. It was two days after he fired his old manager and he didn’t really know if he’d have a career after that. He remembers the immense relief he felt when they announced his win.

He tries to use his magic to push that feeling outwards. Nothing.

He tries harder. They sit in silence for a long time, with Viktor occasionally promising that he’ll get it soon, just give him a second. Eventually, Yuuri stops him.

“You’re straining yourself,” he says, resting a gentle hand on Viktor’s knee. There’s more magic in Yuuri’s left pinky than Viktor’s entire body. He can feel it seeping into his bones, wrapping him in Yuuri’s particularly light magical signature. “I can feel how hard you’re trying, so it’s not a problem with projection. I think it might just be the memory you’re using.”

Viktor furrows his brow. “It’s the highlight of my career. It has a lot of strong emotions, why isn’t it working?”

Yuuri smiles gently. “Just because it’s a highlight of your career doesn’t mean it’s a happy memory.”

Viktor nods. He tries again, this time with a memory of the first time he heard one of his songs playing on the radio.

Yuuri perks up a little. “I’m hearing something, but it’s faint. A little distorted. Maybe try a memory that isn’t related to singing? I think your stress about your vocal magic is tainting your memories.”

Viktor frowns. “To be honest, I don’t have many memories that don’t involve singing. My life is basically my career. But I’ll try.”

Viktor thinks about the time he and Christophe took little Yuri and Mila to the aquarium in Paris. They all wore hoodies and sunglasses–– which did very little to hide their identities, but added a thrill to the whole day. A sense of adventure. Yuri was twelve at the time, and very interested in sharks. Viktor remembers the delighted squeak in his voice when they passed through the shark tunnel.

“Blue,” Yuuri says, his eyes closed. He sways slightly in place, like he’s caught in an ocean current. “Light blue, and dark shapes passing by overhead. A tank? I can smell… fish? An aquarium?”

“Yes! I did it!” Viktor laughs, clutching at Yuuri’s hands excitedly. “I did it, Yuuri! I still have my magic!”

“You went to the aquarium with… three friends? Two of them are a lot younger than you?” Yuuri’s eyes blink open. “Can I guess? You went with Christophe Giacometti, Mila Babicheva, and Yuri Plisetsky?”

Viktor grins. “You got all of that from my projection?”

“It was very clear.” Yuuri smiles at him softly, which is when Viktor realizes he’s still holding Yuuri’s hands. Viktor cycles through more memories. Neither of them let go until it’s late, the only light in the studio coming from their joined hands.

 

* * *

 

After that lesson, they go back to the studio a couple times. Viktor cancels all his studio time indefinitely. He can do projections now, but nothing close to the magic he weaved into his voice before. He figures there’s no point in taking up recording space when he can’t do anything yet.

He’s not going to lie, he’s frustrated. His music is his _life_. He doesn’t remember who he was before he found his voice, and he doesn’t know who he’ll be if he can never get it back. Sometimes, at night, the cavity in his chest aches. He tosses and turns for hours, trying to arrange his body in a shape that doesn’t make it hurt.

The only bright side is that he spends a lot of time with Yuuri now. The initial shyness is almost completely gone, revealing Yuuri’s true nature. He teases Viktor constantly, something Viktor treasures. He treats Viktor like a _person_. Like a friend.

Well, Viktor’s hoping they’ll be more than friends, but for now he’s content to have Yuuri in his life.

 

* * *

 

“I think we need to try something else,” Yuuri says one day. They’re in the dance studio again, trying to cast warming charms with little results. “I think we should go out.”

“Go out? Together?” Viktor doesn’t need to look in the mirror to know his grin is heartshaped.

“Yeah,” Yuuri says, breezing right past Viktor’s implication. “Out to the square. Or, if you don’t want to be recognized, there’s a nighttime arcane market near my house. I think maybe surrounding you in magic would be better than sitting in this studio alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Viktor says. “I’m with you.”

“C’mon, let’s go to the market.” Yuuri gets to his feet and offers Viktor his hand. “I need to pick up some supplies anyway.”

They get to the market place at dusk. It’s not too crowded yet and a couple vendors are still setting up, but it’s a hotbed of magical activity already. There are orbs of light floating around, keeping the area illuminated. Even though it’s still early, the market is awash with sound, a beautiful cacophony. Viktor hears no less than six different languages being yelled out across the market, including werewolvish. The full moon hangs low on the horizon, edging out the sun slowly, quietly.

Viktor is enchanted.

Yuuri takes him from stall to stall, greeting the vendors like old friends. He stops and asks a stoic looking Korean man about his dog. Yuuri introduces the man as his old college friend, Seung-Gil Lee. He has tiny rainbow colored feathers budding down the column of his neck, disappearing into his shirt collar. He walks with them for a little before they part ways in front of the doorway to a bar offering half-off drinks for monsters.

Viktor is… having fun.

It’s a weird thing to realize. He doesn’t even notice until he catches Yuuri grinning at him after Viktor bounces his way through a series of stalls, asking everyone all sorts of questions. They’re generally very nice, but Viktor can tell that they get annoyed after a few questions. Yuuri never gets annoyed, though. He never makes Viktor feel like he’s too much.

Someone–– a young, blond vampire with a red streak and the cutest little fangs–– stops Yuuri and begs him to perform. Yuuri indulges him with a small pirouette, producing a light piano melody. The kid squeals and hugs Yuuri tightly, before running off.

“That’s Minami,” Yuuri explains, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m the assistant for his ballet class on Saturdays. His teacher, Minako, used to teach me ballet when I was a kid.”

“Adorable,” Viktor says.

“Isn’t he?”

Viktor smiles. “I wasn’t talking about him.”

“Oh.” Yuuri blushes.

They walk around for a bit longer before Yuuri goes off to buy them snacks. He gets sucked into a conversation with the girl running the booth. Viktor hangs back and just watches him.

There’s something irresistible about Yuuri, something that can’t be chalked up to magic. He’s kind, shy at first, but hilariously snarky once he gets comfortable. He’s obviously well-loved, yet he stays humble. He works hard. Even just looking at him now, Viktor is bewitched. He’s a vision, with the sky fading from dusty purple to black overhead and the lights from the stalls catching in his hair. The girl says something that makes Yuuri laugh and Viktor can hear a faint echo of the earlier piano melody behind his voice. His own brand of vocal magic, his own ocean.

Viktor is moonstruck.

He’s snapped out of his trance when his phone rings. It’s Yakov.

“Vitya!” Yakov’s voice is a dull roar over the phone. “You were supposed to be at the studio hours ago! Where are you?”

“I cancelled!”

“What––?!” Yakov stops and takes a deep breath. Viktor bites his lip, suddenly afraid that he’s pushed him too far. If he loses Yakov, he has nothing. Viktor almost opens his mouth to tell Yakov that he’ll head to the recording studio right away, even though he knows he won’t be able to perform.

“Okay,” Yakov says, surprising Viktor with how soft his voice is. “Is this about your trouble with magic?”

Viktor’s silence is an answer itself.

“Well, Vitya,” Yakov grumbles. “You’re an adult, even if you don’t act like it. Just don’t do anything stupid. And have some fun. You deserve a break.”

“Okay, Yakov.” Viktor tries to pour all his love into his voice. His magic still doesn’t work, but he knows that Yakov understands anyway.

“Can you at least tell me where you are?”

Viktor watches Yuuri laughing, body glowing.

“I’m exactly where I want to be.”

 

* * *

 

Over the next couple of weeks, Yuuri takes him to various magical hotspots in the hope that Viktor will just absorb the magic. It doesn’t work, but at least Viktor is having fun.

“You know, I think it’s time to bring out the big guns,” Yuuri says one day. “Come home with me?”

 

* * *

 

Yuuri lives in an adorable little Victorian. It’s painted mint green, but there are patches where pastel pink and deep blue peek through, as if the house has been painted over multiple times and the layers are starting to chip away. It’s very vertical, stretching up above Viktor’s head at least three stories, not counting the floating attic that Viktor can’t even _begin_ to comprehend.

“Wow,” Viktor breathes out. “Yuuri, your house is _amazing_! I’ve never seen magic used like this before!”

“Celestino, my, uh–– mentor?–– he works in research at the university. He does a lot of experimental magic stuff, mostly with plants. Every inch of this play is enchanted.”

“It’s _beautiful_.”

“Thanks.” Yuuri smiles hesitantly. “You, uh, don’t think it’s weird? Usually people think it’s weird.”

“It’s incredible!” Viktor smiles down at Yuuri. “Besides, I like weird.”

The ‘I like you’ goes unspoken, but from the way Yuuri blushes, he got the message.

“The paint is my work, but the weight of the charm is causing it to peel,” Yuuri explains, leading Viktor up the porch stairs and to the front door. “It’s like a mood ring. It’s supposed to reflect the moods of the people inside. It’s mint right now, which means that both Phichit and Celestino are home and they’re probably teasing each other.”

Sure enough, when Yuuri unlocks the door and lets them in, Viktor hears voices coming from the kitchen.

“That’s too much basil! We’re making an invisibility potion, not pesto!”

Yuuri chuckles quietly. He pads down the hall and pokes his head into the kitchen. While he chats, Viktor looks around. Their living room looks like three different tornados with widely varying interests all exploded inside. There are plants _everywhere_ , in pots hanging from the ceiling and side tables next to furniture. There’s a stack of photography magazines on the coffee table that must be Phichits, plus a couple horror novels that probably belong to Yuuri. It’s charming.

“Okay!” Yuuri waves Viktor over, into the kitchen. “Ciao Ciao said he’d help.”

“Ciao Ciao?”

Viktor steps into the kitchen and comes face to face with the most terrifying man he’s ever seen in his entire life.

“Celestino,” the man introduces himself, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Only the kids get to call me Ciao Ciao.”

“This is Viktor,” Yuuri says, giving Celestino a significant look. “We’re _helping_ him.”

“I know who he is.” Celestino crosses his arms. HIs hair has a mind of its own, curling around his face and whipping around wildly in his ponytail. “So, you’ve lost your heart? And you think you’re important enough to take up all of Yuuri’s precious time?”

Viktor gulps. He opens his mouth to beg for mercy, but Phichit swoops in to save the day.

“I’m Phichit!” he announces loudly, bouncing from his position in front of the cauldron over over to Viktor. You knew that, obviously. Yuuri’s told me all about you.”

“Really?” Viktor grins dopily,. He turns to Yuuri. “You talk about me?”

Yuuri blushes. “I mean, yeah?”

“Okay, enough,” Celestino grunts. “Let’s do some tests.”

Viktor is pretty sure the first couple of “tests” are just meant to embarrass him. Celestino has Viktor attempt to cast a binding spell, identify a series of magical plants, and solve some math problems. Viktor has no idea what calculus has to do with magic, but he answers everything correctly. He liked math a lot back when he was still in school.

“Hmm, okay,” Celestino says after the third time Viktor fails to levitate a crystal ball. “Let’s try something else.”

Phichit and Yuuri are in the backyard, having abandoned Viktor and Celestino’s tests in favor of tending to their plants. Celestino calls them inside.

“We’re gonna try charging this potion together,” he says. His hair reaches out to pat both Yuuri and Phichit on the head affectionately. “It’s like a circuit. If Viktor can’t channel the magic, then it won’t work. Maybe plugging him into our magic will do something.”

“Like jumpstarting a car,” Phichit says.

“Sure.” Celestino waves them all over so they’re standing around the cauldron. “Join hands and concentrate. I’ll do all the heavy lifting, just lend me your magic.”

It starts with Celestino. He glows dark green, the magic causing his hair to whip around wildly, like he was standing in the middle of a storm. It travels like electric green lightning to Phichit, who absorbs it with a soft yellow glow, radiating pure light. From Phichit, it flows into Yuuri. There’s a small boom when it reaches the joint of their hands, enough to make Viktor rock back on his heels. He catches Celestino grinning at them from the corner of his eye. Phichit and Yuuri’s joined hands burn bright white, so bright it hurts to look at.

The magic comes off of Yuuri in sparks and swirls, orbiting around him like a mini solar system. A series of shooting stars dance around his head and arc around his wrists like bracelets, an asteroid belt of sparks twirls around his waist, crackling. The magic lights him up from the inside, running down his arm towards Viktor’s hand––

–– where it dies.

Their hands smoke as the magic burns itself up. The cavity in Viktor’s chest aches.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He grops Yuuri’s hand tighter. “Just give me a second, I can––”

“Kid,” Celestino says, gentle for the first time all day. “It’s okay.”

“It’s really not okay,” Viktor says miserably, dropping Yuuri and Celestino’s hands. He steps back from the cauldron.

Phichit, Yuuri, and Celestino seem to have a silent conversation, made up mostly of nods and eyebrow raises. Viktor’s too tired to try to figure out what’s going on.

“Why don’t we go outside,” Yuuri suggests finally. “Get some air?”

He leads Viktor out the backdoor, reassuring Celestino and Phichit that they’ll only be a minute. The door slides shut behind them on its own. Even the _doors_ in Yuuri’s home have more magic than Viktor does. He’s about as useful as a chair right now.

The garden is beautiful. They don’t have much space in the backyard, which they’ve made up for with floating garden beds, the wood painted bright colors as they hover peacefully in the air. It’s like a small bubble in the middle of a city, lush and overflowing with life. Viktor forgets that if he walks twenty feet in any direction, he’ll meet concrete. He feels a wave of calm wash over him.

“Feel better?” Yuuri smiles knowingly. “It’s the lavender. Celestino started planting it after I was diagnosed with anxiety. It’s supposed to be calming.”

Viktor smiles bitterly. “More magic, huh?”

Yuuri shakes his head. “Lavender isn’t magical. It’s actually one of the few plants with no magical properties at all.”

“Oh.”

“But it’s also one of the most widely used plants.”

“Is that supposed to be a metaphor? For… me?” Viktor frowns. “But I’m not non-magical. There’s nothing wrong with being non-magical, it’s just… my career–– my fans have expectations.”

“Viktor, the only person who matters in this situation is _you_.” Yuuri nods his head towards the back of the garden. “Come here, I wanna show you something.”

Yuuri weaves his way through the floating flower boxes and pots, ducking to avoid stray vines. Viktor follows. The plants all seem to lean towards Yuuri when he passes, like they’re reaching for the sun. It’s fitting.

“ _Solnyshko_ ,” Viktor whispers.

“What was that?” Yuuri looks over his shoulder.

“Nothing,” Viktor says. “A nickname.”

Yuuri takes him to the back fence bordering their neighbor's. There are a row of sunflowers there, planted into the ground instead of in a flower box.

“Sunflowers,” Yuuri says. “They’re my favorites.”

The sunflowers drip golden light onto the soil below them. Like the rest of the plants, they all seem to turn towards Yuuri. Yuuri reaches out and plucks a petal off of one.

Viktor raises an eyebrow. “I know what sunflowers are.”

“Yes, but––” Yuuri takes his hand and uses it to pull Viktor back towards the small shed in the corner of the garden–– “I’m willing to bet you’ve never seen these.”

Yuuri opens the door to the shed and ushers Viktor inside, shutting the door behind them, plunging the shed into darkness.

“What––?”

“Just watch.”

Yuuri holds out the sunflower petal, glowing golden in the pitch black. The shed gradually glows lighter and lighter, until Viktor can see well enough to make out the smile on Yuuri’s face. But, the light isn’t just coming from the sunflower petal anymore. Viktor looks around and sees the shed is lined with boxes of tall, silvery plants. They look like sunflowers, but their stalks are pitch black and their flowers have no petals, only a glowing, silvery head of seeds.

“Moonflowers,” Yuuri says, pleased. The sunflower petal in his hand glows brighter when he brings it closer to a nearby moonflower. “They’re sensitive, so they can’t be out in the sun. But, if you put them near sunflowers they glow. It’s the only plant that grows without sunlight. It’s also the only plant that supports sunflowers. Sunflowers can’t crow without moonflowers nearby. ”

Yuuri sends him a look. “This is another metaphor, by the way.”

“I think I get it.” Viktor leans forward and gently touches one of the moonflowers. His hand comes away with a silver streak glittering on his finger.

“I’m going to keep helping you look for your heart, but I think you need to start loving yourself without your magic,” Yuuri smiles at him gently, looking ethereal and achingly gentle in the moonlight. “You’re still Viktor, even without your magic. You’re still Viktor.”

“Vitya,” Viktor says, his voice thick with emotion. “Call me Vitya, please.”

“Okay,” Yuuri whispers. “Vitya.”

Viktor looks back at the house, before he gets into the car. The paint is bright yellow.

 

* * *

 

Viktor answers all his emails that night. He schedules a meeting with Yakov to talk about what he’s going to do now that he’s not recording. He calls all his friends and catches up, apologizes for being distant.

“Are you okay?” Chris asks, his voice like dark wood, solid and reliable.

“Not really,” Viktor says truthfully, “but I will be.”

 

* * *

 

Viktor had never fallen in love before, but now he finds himself falling for _everything_.

He loves the crunch of autumn leaves under his feet. He loves the smell of fresh rain. He loves taking pictures with Phichit and seeing which one of them can get the best candid shots of Yuuri. He loves Celestino’s old records, loves when they're playing in the background while he teaches Viktor, Phichit, and Yuuri how to cook. He loves Makkachin so, so, _so_ much and he loves how much _Yuuri_ loves Makkachin. He loves Yuuri’s yellow kitchen, with the burn marks and the stains, and the happy plants sitting on the windowsill over the sink. He loves the moments between sleeping and waking, when everything is soft and hazy, and he's not Viktor Nikiforov the popstar. He's just Viktor and Viktor loves and loves and _loves_.

 

* * *

 

Viktor spends a lot of time at Yuuri’s house.

It took a couple weeks, but Celestino finally warmed up to him enough to give him his own designated parking spot, though it’s by the trashcans. He yells at Viktor a lot. He and Yakov would probably get along really well, Viktor needs to introduce them sometime. Viktor has dinner with Yakov and all his old studiomates every friday. Now that he’s not a signed artist, he’s been promoted as a producer. He composes for other people. He sings a lot, but he doesn’t record any of it. He’s happy.

He’s happy.

He thinks he might finally work up the courage to formally ask Yuuri out soon. They’re _basically_ dating, something Chris and Phichit and Mila and even _Celestino_ tease him about a lot.

Yuuri is teaching Viktor how to brew good luck potions one day when Phichit bursts into the house, yelling from the top of his lungs.

“I got a deal!” he hollers. He dashes into the kitchen, hair ruffled like he’d run here all the way from the university campus.

“A deal?” Yuuri abandons their potion. “With who?”

“Times!” Phichit crows. He throws his backpack onto the counter and does a little dance, spinning in place. His joy sends the plants into a frenzy, reaching towards him and undulating happily.

Celestino materializes in the doorway. “What’s going on?”

“Phichit got a deal with Times!”

“What photo?” Viktor asks.

“This one!” Phichit whips out his phone and pulls up his online portfolio. “The one with Yuuri from the Midsummer’s night festival–– here!”

He presents his phone proudly. On the tiny digital screen is a slow moving photo of Yuuri, twirling through the air and sending sparks and streaks of rainbows everywhere. He’s wearing a loose crop top and black leggings, plain enough that his magic shines out, radiating out into every corner of the photo.

“Oh! I liked that performance.” Yuuri reaches out with his pointer finger and twirls some of the colorful streaks emanating from the photo. They swirl around like wisps of cotton candy.

“They want this photo _and_ they want me to work with one of their journalists for more.” Phichit bounces on his heels. “This is my shot in! They’re offering me a junior photographer position!”

“Phichit! Thats amazing!” Yuuri sweeps Phichit into his arms, laughing as he levitates them and sends them spinning through the air.

“Be careful! If you put another dent in my ceiling, Katsuki I swear––!” Celestino shouts, but it's ruined by the proud grin on his face.

“It was picked up because Sara Crispino. She’s––”

“ _The_ Sara Crispino?”

“–– doing an article about the street magic scene in LA.”

“This calls for a celebration,” Celestino says. “How about a movie night––”

“Party!” Phichit hollers.

Yuuri turns to Viktor. “We usually have a Halloween party around this time anyway. It’s a little traditional, most modern magic users don’t celebrate. “It’s a little old school, but it’s usually a really fun party.”

“Party?” Viktor hates parties. He associates them with having to smile all night and pretend to have fun.

But it won’t be like that this time. Not with Yuuri. Viktor doesn’t need to pretend with him.

“You could invite people,” Yuuri says. “If you want? Phichit and I loved Chris when we hung out the other day. I’m pretty sure he and Phichit are conspiring against us on Instagram.”

Viktor smiles fondly. “I don’t know if Celestino would approve.”

“Ciao Ciao doesn’t approve of _anyone_ ,” Yuuri says loudly.

“I’m right here! I heard that, kid!”

“That was the point!” Yuuri laughs. He slowly lowers himself and Phichit to the ground, still giggling.

VIktor thinks about it. He really wants to introduce Yuuri to the other people in his life. The only reason he hasn’t is, well––

He’s afraid.

He’s found a certain peace here. He’s _happy._ He can _feel_ things again. He doesn’t want to disrupt the balance by bringing in all the noise and negativity of his Hollywood life. But his friends were never the negative parts of his life. And he has a sneaking suspicion that everyone will get along just fine. He has half a mind to warn Celestino, since the combined power of Mila and Phichit may very well bring on the end of the world.

“Okay,” Viktor says, “yeah. I can think of a couple people to invite.”

 

* * *

 

Phichit forces him into decoration duty, which is basically Viktor hanging up all the decorations while Phichit sips tea and directs him.

“To the left! And more fake cobwebs! We want this place to have maximum spookiness level!s”

Viktor sighs and tacks the bat over the door, slightly to the left. “You know, you have magic. You could just float these things up here.”

“But then I don't get to torture you!”

Viktor chuckles. “Is this payback for not tagging you in my instagram picture last week?”

“Yup!” Phichit relies cheerfully. “Now, start with the little ghosts. I want them hanging in a diamond pattern from the ceiling.

After a while of chattering and directions, Phichit goes quiet. Viktor continues hanging the decorations. He’s moved on to the orange streamers now.

“Hey, Viktor,” Phichit calls, after a while.

“Hmm?”

“Have you been writing any new music?”

Viktor stops hanging the streamer. He gets down off the ladder and collapses onto the couch with Phichit.

“Yes,” Viktor sighs, wringing his hands. “I–– yeah. One song. But, it’s not like my others. I still can’t get my magic to work.”

“Do you like the song as it is right now?”

Viktor doesn’t even need to think about that. “Yes. Just lyrically, it’s the best thing I’ve ever written.”

“Then, maybe it’s okay if there’s no magic in it. Maybe the magic is the song itself.”

Viktor sighs. “Just because _I_ like it doesn’t mean other people will.”

“Forget about other people,” Phichit says. He gives Viktor a significant look. “You know, Yuuri wouldn’t care if the song had magic or not.”

Viktor blushes. “Am I that obvious?”

“Like a blinking neon sign,” Phichit says with a grin. “It’s cute. Yuuri deserves someone who adores him.”

“He does.” Viktor smiles back.

“And _you_ ––” Phichit leans over and pokes Viktor on the chest–– “deserve someone who loves you even without your magic.”

“Does he? Love me, I mean.”

Phichit smiles cryptically. “That’s not a question you should be asking me.”

 

* * *

 

The party goes off without a hitch, of course it was. Viktor was right, Mila and Phichit are plotting world domination. Yakov and Celestino seem to be humble-bragging about their “kids” to each other. Chris and Georgi are both stuffing their faces with Celestino’s pasta. Viktor is currently seated on the couch, shoved between Yuuri and little Yuri, who’s trying and failing not to be impressed by Yuuri. It’s adorable.

“You’re not the same guy that performed at LA World of Dance last year, are you?” Yuri asks, eyes narrowed.

“Um, I am,” Yuuri smiles shyly. “Are you talking about the ‘Black Magic’ themed dance piece? Because, yeah, that was me.”

Yuri gives Viktor a hard look. “Your boyfriend is cool. How’d you trick him into dating you?”

Viktor and Yuuri look at each other and laugh. Neither of them correct Yuri.

The night is winding down when Viktor decides to make his move. He’s somehow ended up in the kitchen with Chris and Phichit, sipping butterbeer and debating dragons rights issues. Viktor’s a little lost if he’s being honest. He didn’t even think dragons were real, and he has the sneaking suspicion that Chris and Phichit are just messing with him. But he’s having too much fun to care. Yuuri comes into the kitchen to get a drink, and so Viktor makes his escape.

“Come outside with me?” Viktor asks, not even bothering to hide the hopeful note in his voice. “I need some air.”

They sit on the rickety wooden steps leading down from the backdoor to the garden. It’s a small step, so they’re pressed right up against each other. Viktor wraps an arm around Yuuri.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Viktor whispers, breaking the silence. The party sounds muffled, a million miles away. For all he cares, he and Yuuri are the only people in the universe right now.

“A secret?” Yuuri asks. He leans his head on Viktor’s shoulder.

“Yes, a secret,” Viktor says.

“Hmm, okay, go ahead. I can keep a secret.”

“You’re the only person I can be myself around.”

Yuuri tilts his head up to look at Viktor, surprised like he hadn’t expected Viktor to say something so sincere.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Viktor continues. “I love my friends. _Our_ friends. But you were there for me when I was having the biggest identity crisis of my life, and you coached me through it.”

From this close, Viktor can see the bolts of gold lightning flickering in Yuuri’s eyes. “I care about you, Vitya. I want you to be happy.”

“Can I tell you another secret, Yuuri?” Viktor is giddy with the realization that, yes, this is happening. “I am happy.”

Yuuri beams up at him. He brings a hand up and cups Viktor’s face, brushing his thumb along his cheekbone. Viktor’s breath hitches.

“Can I?” Yuuri asks, but Viktor is already leaning in.

Kissing Yuuri is like driving fast on an empty road with the windows down. It’s the feeling of sunlight warm on your face, bathing you in warmth. It’s exhilarating and comforting all at once. Viktor kisses him as slow and as sweetly as he knows how, not trying to rush because it’s _Yuuri_ and Viktor knows that there will be more kisses after this. A lifetime’s worth, if Yuuri gives him the chance.

Yuuri inhales deeply and shifts closer, brings his other hand up to cradle the back of Viktor’s head while Viktor’s hands wrap around his waist. Viktor breaks away to pepper light kisses along Yuuri’s jaw and down his neck.

“Vik–– _ah_ –– Viktor?”

“Hmm?” Viktor presses one last kiss to the base of Yuuri’s throat before coming back up to seal their mouths together again.

“Mm, wait,” Yuuri pulls back, just a millimeter of space between their lips, “We should probably head back inside. Someone might come looking for us.”

Viktor thinks about the knowing look that both Chris and Phichit sent him before he disappeared with Yuuri out into the garden. “They won’t.”

“I’ve abandoned my party,” Yuuri whispers. “I’m such a bad host.”

“Let’s just stay out here a little longer,” Viktor pouts. “Please, Yuuri? Stay with me just a little longer?”

Yuuri gives in. He leans in for another kiss. Suddenly, a spark of blue light explodes into the space next to them. Viktor pulls back just in time to see Yuuri conjure up another burst of light, this time blush pink.

“Literal fireworks? You’re such a sap,” Viktor says, amazed and a little enamored.

He laughs, delighted, when Yuuri sends a shower of green sparks flying through the air. He sucks Yuuri’s bottom lip into his mouth as a burst of golden light erupts between them. Viktor pulls away with a helpless laugh. He can feel the electricity dancing on his skin, buzzing through the air.

“I love you,” he says, because he can’t hold it in anymore.

“I love you, too,” Yuuri says, without missing a beat.

Viktor leans in to pull him into another kiss when something catches his eye. There, in the back corner of the garden, coming from inside the moonflower shed is a glowing purple light. Yuuri notices, too.

“What… ?”

Viktor pushes himself off the steps, offering a hand to help Yuuri up. Fingers intertwined, Viktor leads them towards the shed.

“I feel like something’s calling out to me,” Viktor whispers. “I can’t explain it.”

Viktor opens the door to the shed at there, sitting on the ground and soaking up the glow of the moonflowers, is Viktor’s heart. It pulses when Viktor draws closer, the purple glow illuminating the small room like it’s daytime.

“That’s my heart,” Viktor says.

“How did it––?” Yuuri turns to Viktor, eyes wide with panic. “Vitya, I swear, I wasn’t hiding it from you. I have no idea how it got here.”

“I know, Yuuri.” To reassure him, Viktor leans over and presses a soft kiss to his forehead.

“I knew you’d come back to me eventually,” Viktor says to his heart, lifting it up to his chest. “Thank you for bringing me to him.”

It slots back into place, filling Viktor with warmth. He feels radiant in the moonlight, his heart pounding in his chest. He feels alive.

He turns to Yuuri. “I wrote you something.”

“Oh?” Yuuri grins. “Go on then.”

Viktor opens his mouth and _sings_.

**Author's Note:**

> that! ended up! way longer! than i intended!
> 
> i'm also kind of attached to this one, so maybe i'll end up giving it its own series, but, if i don't and if anyone is curious:  
> • even with his magic restored, viktor releases his next album without putting magic into his music. it's critically praised for viktor's ability to evoke strong emotions without forcing it into the music with magic  
> • yuuri gets his teaching degree but he still can't settle on a dance style so he just teaches _everything_. he still helps minako out with her classes on weekends  
>  • phichit gets signed with times photographing everyday magic and magic users who aren't typically represented in media. he does a series with yuuri giving performance magic lessons to kids from poorer communities, all paid for by time  
> • mila and sara eventually meet and get married
> 
> that's it for this one! part four is going up tomorrow! i don't know what _possessed_ me to write this one  
>  As always, I’m [xyloophones](https://xyloophones.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!! Come say hi!!


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